The Theft
by DomoLurv
Summary: As a small-time thief trying to survive the woes of Gotham city, Estella Griffiths had always been fighting against the odds. Exactly how messed up can a life get when one simple theft goes oh-so wrong?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter o1: Hit and Run**

With watchful eyes, I bolted down the hallway in absolute silence, feet tinkering on the tips of my toes as the hallway ended. Reaching the last door at the end of the long hall within seconds, a gloved hand quickly rose to the knob and slowly twisted it until the door slid quietly open. The only noise was the slight fiction of the wooden door ruggedly sliding against carpet, but as soon as the door was opened and I entered the darkened room, I couldn't hear anything but heavy breaths and the light snores of a man sleeping in his large, four-poster bed. Quietly, with stealth and precision, my goggled eyes located the bed-side desk and my feet flew towards the slightly ajar draw. If the tip had indeed been correct, the prize would be lying latent there. Taking a sideward glance at the sleeping man adjacent, my heart throbbed wildly in my chest as a delicate hand reached out and inch by inch drew the wooden draw open. Eyes only leaving the sleeping man for a few seconds, a smirk widened across my face as I quickly lifted the large wad of bills rolled tightly with a rubber band, and then eyes trailing over towards the unconscious man, I quietly closed the draw and paced backwards towards the door.

The quick retreat out of the abode was always the easiest, but as always, required the most attention. Detail was key- my sharp eyes quickly flickering to evidence as I began fixing shoe prints on the lounge carpet and kicked up tassels on the entrance rug. Reaching the front door with no dilemma, I tapped in the security to reactivate the alarm system and quickly exited the house, shutting the door slowly and then bolting down the tiled stairs and into the darkness of the night.

After a short sprint my heavy breaths filled the darkness of a nearby street corner. Covered by a large tree and out of the direct light of the lamp above, I hid in the darkness as I leaned over panting. Running a few blocks in a rabid sprint wasn't my most refined skill... Gaining my breath again, I eagerly patted the spool of money in my leg pouch and grinned as I began onwards again, keeping to the shadows as I made my journey to the awaiting transport. Five streets and two parks later, I approach an awaiting car, knocking on the window twice before pulling the door open and jumping in.

Without a word the driver turned the keys in the ignition and we were off, staring dazedly out of the window as the exuberant suburbs of Pittsburgh and North Gotham gradually molded into the run-down cityscape. Fittingly the multi-stories apartments were my quaint home. More alone in a neighborhood of mowed lawns and picket fences, I was city-folk, a thief who felt more alive hiding in back alleys and picking pockets opposed to living in a house with four rooms. Darkness was a burglar's best ailment, and I enjoyed the comforting shadows that allowed a clean escape.

Of course, Gotham was renowned for its crime rate. This city wasn't the safest or the most prestige of cities, but it was my home now, and even if the alleys were littered with as many knife-handling robbers and muggers as there were dodgy dealers in trench coats, I was a little more stand-offish than most women in these parts. I knew more than my fare share of incarcerating techniques, and the only thing I had yet to master was the ability to evade guns... unfortunately, not even the notorious masked vigilante Batman could call that as a forte.

'_These old streets are safer than ever... and yet, it's still impossible not to fall victim in this city._' I thought bitterly, my head turning with a slight frown towards the driver.

Mike: a college mate and fellow thief-in-the-making whose skills at the wheel outweighed those on his feet. He was a brilliant rally driver, as he grew up on a farm far west of Gotham, hence his newly appointed position- escape driver. Tall, thin and rather gauntly looking, he was as desperate as they came, a deserving trait in this small group of young adult crime gang we both belonged too.

With no name, with no affiliates, with nothing but the bare motivation to pull money in for collage fees and the ever increasing rent in inner Gotham while still being able to feed ourselves, there were more than half-a-dozen of us that lingered around the Northern suburbs spying on unsuspecting middle-aged mobsters and ransacking their wallets while they were elsewhere. Pittsburgh was both the ultimate crime location and had the ultimate punishment. When we had all agreed on our weekly blundering we had weighed up the consequences of being caught. Some had left our little tirade, and rightly so, we were freakin' nuts!

Put shortly, Pittsburgh was the upper district of North Gotham, home to the crime syndicate bosses and those rich enough to own an estate. It was a corrupt place filled with the burdens of Gotham, the lowest dogs with the highest pay. No man or woman in that area was gifted with their wealth from hard work- it was rare enough to find even a dozen people who had inherited their funds from relatives. It was also one of the most pristine places in Gotham, and that's what made it so perfect. Not one man would sleep in their houses with much of a worry, content and blissfully unaware in their humble mansions. It was almost a joke taking the spare change from these criminals while they slept, silently tinkering in and brushing past their sleeping forms. Easy come, easy go. Their pockets wouldn't be checked for another month until they learned their wads of pay-offs were missing, and then? They'd blame the misses, maybe even the greedy pig-headed children they so raised. I could almost laugh at how simple it was to make a living in this city. We were almost a modern age Robin Hoods, except we had some contemporary flares- we may have stolen from the rich, but we didn't care for much else but our own asses. Risking my life was enough a punishment to heed to my own filthy greed, albeit small in comparison to these vindictive and uncaring crime lords. But I was human after all... I was no superhero or saviour, just a petty thief.

Estella Griffiths, a sketchy part-time thief stealing from crime lords to pay tuition! It was so humorous that I almost giggled at the thought. It was a present thinking about what I did for a living, but when would this dream all run out? Luck could only last so long, and my abilities weren't attuned enough to keep me safe for long... was this what my future held, after so many years of trying to escape the mob scene?

'_I'm hanging by a thread over a tank of hungry sharks..._' I thought with a slight smile, turning away from Mike as he tapped his fingers along the wheel, nodding his head to the music blaring from the speakers. '_We're asking for a death wish. I wonder when we'll get caught._'

It always interested me, how incredibly daunting I thought of the day, it was bound to happen and it would have dire consequences. But it humored me still... a sardonic smile twined at the side of my lips, my clockwork putting together how I would cope. I had little to no ties with people, no relatives to speak of, and those few I considered important were kept well at ease in other countries- it was alright really, having little to think of when in trouble. I could take care of myself, it was in my blood, it was in my past, and I certainly knew when and how to run.

_'This one's in the bag, I suppose... my finals are totally different problem_.' I sighed, not wanting to dwell over the semester exam results I'd be receiving soon.

Pulling up two blocks away from my apartment building for safety reasons, Mike gave me a pat on the back as I pulled the cash from my pouch and took a few hundreds from the roll. It was my payment for doing the hard work, handing over the rest to Mike for even distribution.

"Nice pinch today, extra cash to burn on semester books next fall." I commented with a smile.

"Heh, well, hopefully my stomach will stay full till then... Still renting my texts out from the library," Mike grinned back. "Cheers babe, catch you later you sneak."

I nodded at Mike as he gave a wave and took off hands in pockets walking swiftly towards the apartment block in front of me. It was routine, in case of a screw up. I climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, exited out the back fire-escape and made my way home through the back alleyways that connected to my building. Simple, clean and effective- reasoning something ever went wrong for it to need to work. Never once had I had trouble, and this night was no different.

Arriving home I gave out a groan of relief and just as I bolted the door shut, I began to peel sweaty black clothes off. Tight, well fitted black jeans with a utility belt and thigh pouch were a given for both speed, precision and my tools of the trade. I dumped my lock picking kit, switch blade and other kick-knacks onto my dresser and pulled the large, black goggles from my forehead. A trademark I suppose, but a nice touch to the getup and a definite for concealing identity. There was nothing worse than getting caught in a bust then managing to escape, only realizing you had just compromised your identity's safety by not concealing it from prying eyes. It could happen; I knew that, so I was sure a nice view of my grinning lips wouldn't be enough for someone to pinpoint my face from a photo.

'_Wouldn't want to have my mug shot plastered all around town, would I_?' I thought, chucking the steampunk goggles to the dresser and getting into a pair of loose cotton trousers and a tank top. '_Finally, I might actually be able to get some sleep tonight..._'

With that thought in mind, I wandered over to the messy bed and collapsed, falling into unconsciousness as soon as my dreary head touched the covers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter o2: Near Miss**

Two weeks since my last snitch. Two weeks since I had gotten my finals [passed with two credits and a distinction] and since the end of semester break began. This meant I had more time than usual to waste my days doing petty things, such as pick pocketing... It wasn't something I delved into often, but as fees, rent and my quarter bills were due within the next few weeks I needed every cent I could launder. It was early dark and I was wandering the Gotham city streets. I kept strictly to populated stretches of road and areas of reasonable standard these days. There were two things lingering on mind upon this decision- one, that stealing the wallet from someone as poor as myself would be a complete waste of time; and two, the recent increase of shootings happening.

Murder, guns and mobsters are three of my less favourite things in life, and by what was happening in the news lately, it was a wonder people were still on the streets after dark. '_God, I swear this place is getting worse and worse since Harvey Dent took on the mob._' I thought dejectedly, not wanting to think into how deep Gotham's White Knight had dug his grave. '_Not to mention that clown freak that just popped up and everything that has been happening with the Batman...oh, sweet-' _Eyeing the woman ahead, I looked over her form while analysing her goods. _'Nice handbag, Louie Vuitton for sure, and nice __Manolo Blahnik heels, faux fur jacket, this is perfect!_'

Head slipping into professional mode, I played my magic as the train of thought ended. Head falling, expression blanking and movements slowing, I used trickery to become invisible to everyone around. It was amazing how easy it was to blend into a crowd without having anything noticeable about you. Moulding into a large flock of young clubbers out for a good night, I quickly strutted sidewards and almost ran into the targeted woman. Looking up just in time to feign a surprised expression and meet her annoyed gaze, without stopping I quickly moved my shoulders sidewards and apologized as I skimmed around her awkwardly, hand subtly moving into her open handbag and quickly grabbing the large leather wallet. Sliding out without even a slight tug on her shoulder, I quickly slipped the wallet into my pocket and continued walking. Looking down with a bored expression and avoiding anyone's suspicious gaze who may have caught a glimpse of my hand slipping in. Tottering onwards, I eyed an upcoming alleyway and turned into it, walking towards a few nearby trash cans to ditch the wallet and check my lootings.

I crouched, my cold hands clutching onto the wallet as I opened it and emptied the contents onto the concrete ground. Filtering through the coins, taking the dollars and two dollars and stashing them into my pockets, I quickly moved to the notes. Counting the green bills, my mouth widening into a happy smile at the stash of money I pulled into my hand. '_Two hundred, three hundred, four hundred-_' I continued to count as my heart sped and my eyes widened with a sickening sense of self-satisfying relief._ 'Maybe, just maybe, I have enough to pay for rent and quarters with this_!'

"No freakin' way, there's nine-hundred and seventy dollars!" I exclaimed as blood rushed through my veins. Having to split the wads of cash from mobster's houses and stashing thousands were strictly reserved for college fund until the dept for my education was paid. Otherwise..."My god, I can actually afford a decent meal out for once!"

"Well, I'm sure the woman you stole that off was looking forward to the same."

I froze, heart almost stopping as my eyes flew up to the man. His voice was deep and refined, and as casual as he made the words seem, a strong sense of self-justice radiated off him. My mouth gaped stupidly as my eyes met with a rather unamused, rather well dressed and rather good looking male billionaire- Bruce Wayne, _the_ _Bruce Wayne_, a predominant company figurehead and district playboy was standing with chin poised up looking down at me. I was caught red-handed.

'_Oh shit..._' Was about all that registered in my head as adrenalin pumped through my blood, common-sense hit me a little later than anticipated. Not having much time to grab the money, my hands scantily flew to the bills, grabbing most of them as legs jolted into action, fleeing without a single word. '_Shit, shit, shit, shit! How did he even see me pinching this? God, how did I not hear him approaching!_'

If there was one thing I were good at, it was being fast and silent. Skidding around corers as if the ends of streets weren't even there, I almost flew with lightning feet across the concrete ground. I had been running at a mad speed for a good fifty seconds and made my way through four streets, my pace never fading. I was sure by now even an athlete wouldn't be able to keep pace with me. Growing tiered I slowed and turned around expecting to see Mr Wayne a good few alleys behind me, given he actually took chase... incredibly enough, I almost let out a wail of profanities as the well-dressed man stopped short of me, grabbing the hood of my jumper as I store wide-eyed at this swift beast.

Panting and staring like a deer in headlights, there was only one comparison to Bruce Wayne right now- the Terminator. Staring down, gently straightened my ruffled jacket up and pushing me against the brick wall, my eyes widening further as I looked pleadingly up at him. Oh god, he was too calm... it was almost murderous!

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I asked in a bit of a daze, mind seriously considering that Bruce Wayne had a secret identity... he had to be a homicidal humanoid robot sent to kill me form the future! No way, no freakin' way any man of any calibre could keep pace like that and not be wheezing up a lung.

"Of course not," He spoke with a light humour in his voice at that, his free hand rising up signalling he wanted something. "I'm going to need that woman's money back, though." He spoke more seriously, a slight frown etching at the side of his lips. God, I didn't know whether to take him seriously or not.

I frowned too, realization dawning as a sunken feeling etched into my face. I had been so close... with that money, with almost an entire grand! I wouldn't have to worry about the rent for another month, or the quarter bills... of course, he wouldn't understand this dilemma. He was a billionaire, what would he know about turning to crime just to make ends meet? Especially being a young adult... there were i_other_ /iways to make my living.

'_Maybe that's just where I'll have to turn_...' I almost cringed at the though, something I had tentatively been thinking on for quite a while since moving to Gotham years back. '_If stealing just gets me nowhere, then there's only limited options for someone like me_.'

I finally met his eyes, almost teary, but unwilling to give into his impending stare. It was scary, almost daunting and demanding. Geeze, since when did this toy-boy become such a law abiding citizen. One that crazily chases a poor teenage delinquent up an alley for some rich woman's pocket money! For a moment I thought maybe I'd break if I continued to stare into those pitiless eyes, but something unplanned happened. Preparing to hand the money over and be escorted to the police station, I handed over the bills and pushed them into his open hand. And as this happened, I wasn't sure whether it was due to how incredibly pathetic the entire circumstances may have been, but Bruce Wayne gave a curt nod and a slightly empathic and charming smile. He flipped personalities pretty quick, because his dazzling smile almost knocked my heart out of my chest.

"You know, the streets are very unsafe around these parts at night..." He spoke so smoothly that his voice was enough to keep a bewildered expression on my face. Oh god, this was it... I was going to get the gutter and punishment, and even worse, my heart was flying almost as fast as he had ran. "How about I shout you to dinner, my treat."

That, I didn't expect... Taken aback, I looked up to Mr Wayne with some stupid blinking gaze, overwhelmed and thankful for this strangely sudden and guilty compassion he seemed to possess.

He was good looking, honest, rich _and_ kind. Was that even possible? Until now, I didn't think that such an honourable man could exist in this crazy town.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter o3: Lifeline  
**

"You're pretty fast on your feet, you know?" Bruce commented, slowly taking his fork to his mouth and crunching away at a piece of lettuce. "It's not very often that I can be outrun, especially by a-"

I looked up at him with a pointed glare, ignoring my food as my eyes lay unmoving on his slightly embarrassed looking face. "Oh, just say it, especially by a _woman_."

"Well, I was actually going to say by a girl, but I guess you're older than you look," He said with a slight teasing tone, continuing to eat his salad.

I had already succeeded in scoffing down my own salad, and a plate of lasagna, more contently now sipping on my third glass of wine with the fullest stomach I'd had since being in foster care years ago. The silence was, of course, filled with the restaurants band playing a light symphony as older couples in beautiful frocks and clinking heels slow-danced on the tiled plateau. The place was beautiful, stunning really! There were more chandeliers in the reception area than I'd seen in my entire life, the floor layered with marble, beautifully polished- and the food, the best part so far.

"So, why is it that you took that woman's purse?" Bruce suddenly chided, lightly and talkative, as if this were a conversation fit for this beautiful restaurant in this magnificent hotel building... clearly I felt incredibly uncomfortable and out of place, embarrassed even. It almost seemed like a mockery of my entire existence. Dressed in a pair of black jeans, a bandana around my neck with a chequered hoodie to keep me warm, I stood out in a bad manner. If only I could afford material that looked a fraction as expensive as the gowns these women were wearing, I'd be more fitting wrapping the table cloth around me in replacement of a frock.

As thrilling as it was to be in the company of billionaire Bruce Wayne, albeit under horrendous circumstances, his eloquence and charming smile on that gorgeous face was not enough to calm my resentful feelings. "Well, it might be hard for someone of your stature to understand." I spoke as bold and as blunt as possible. I wasn't going to shine this over or emote this out for him, this man who had so much money that he needn't even pay for my meal- he owned the entire hotel and restaurant.

Looking up from his meal, a slight frown etched onto Bruce's features. With that slight motion, something unnerving stirred within- he looked so much darker, and it most certainly wasn't a trick of the light. "I'm a little more attuned to public affairs and understanding what others may have gone through more than you think, Ms Griffiths. I'm not all that innocent or unscathed myself."

"Either you're disillusioned, or you're making a complete mockery of everyone and anyone who's ever been in the same circumstances as I have," I stated, jaw tightening as his eyebrows creased. That same look, sullen and dark. Far more alluring than his charm he so wore on his sleeve, '_there really must be more to this man than what we see…_'

"I'm sorry, that must have come off rather rude."

I almost scoffed a little in reproach to his apology, "rude! I pick-pocketed a woman and you chased me down, then you fed me as _punishment_? I just think you're a little insane, is all."

"Insane?" He considered for a moment, "that's something I can live with, I suppose. Not something people accuse me of too often."

I looked around with an incredulously raised brow, keeping a smile from twinging at my lips. "Of course! So, how many hotels in this city do you own?"

"Around sixteen," He chided with a slight hand movement, my keen eyes watching as that mask came back down, another smile pulling at his lips.

"And no one ever accuses you of being insane?" I gave him a slight smirk of my own as he met my rather incredulous gaze, "your friends must be either too polite or rather, smart enough to keep their mouths shut..." I commented offhandedly, leaning back into the chair.

"That's probably true." He commented with a slight smile, his eyes then flickering up to give me an uncompromising stare. "In all seriousness now, you're a smart girl. You've got a wider vocabulary than half of my clients. So tell me, how does someone like you end up committing petty felonies like stealing wallets?"

I liked that he ended his questioning there, quite aware he was burning to add more to those statements yet holding back his tongue. I clenched down hard on my lips. I blinked again while staring hard, quickly flushing my anger down as it rose with such guile. It was wrong to think he knew nothing about circumstances, but to make sure assumptions about my status as if I had a choice in the matter? I wanted to spit fire in his face about now, but I did have a level of self control. He had reframed from taking me to the police, he even left his questioning open ended and un-accusative. I could at least offer him some closure.

"Firstly, I'm not a girl, I'm twenty-three," I started with a quick sip of my wine, I was going to need the stuff… I pointedly looked to Wayne, with his smothering eyes never leaving mine, leaned back in his chair as he waited patiently. "And as for my vocabulary? It's in more abundance than most because I'm majoring in English Arts in college. Don't assume just because I have an education and I've got more attitude in my stride than most people can conjure at the easiest of times that I could ever be anything in this city... I don't commit 'petty felonies' because I want to. I have no money, I struggle to pay the monthly rent for my one roomed studio apartment, virtually no one is willing to hire me little-alone pay more than six dollars an hour for me to work a job, and quite frankly, I have no ulterior means of income. Not even the government have anything to offer me. Unless I start working in a brothel or working out of people's cars, that is, but I'm not really too thrilled opening that door of opportunity up. I steal to eat, so I don't have to starve, so I don't have to drop out of my college degree and fall deeper into this mess than I would if I just stood by and did nothing... I know this might be coming off as a little vindictive and immature, but you were born into wealth. I have nothing and no one to rely on, and the food chain around here is in vast relation to the term dog-eat-dog. I have to settle to breaking laws to make ends meet, and that's just how it is. If you've got any ulterior, then I'm arms wide open. Till then, woman in fur coats with thousands of dollars in their pockets are the only people I can get money from without landing myself in a jail cell- and put short, with how easily you tore me down, I'm probably headed there very soon. And both you and I know there's already enough people cramming up the prisons in this city."

All the while, preaching out with a snider attitude than I had originally intended, I kept direct eye contact with the engaging man. Unsettling enough, his dark brown eyes seemed to never leave my own, almost taking in everything I said with a greater understanding than I'd ever give him credit for. He merely nodded, even looked sympathetic as I ended, those dark eyes emitting such a deep feeling that I had to look away. Feeling just a little silly sitting in this fancy restaurant and wondering if Bruce Wayne really was sitting before me, talking about catching me nicking a woman's purse, I store stupidly up at the roof with some sense of betrayal as everything seemed so incredibly grand... of course, even the roof was beautifully orchestrated, with rendering more complicated then I had time bothering to observe.

"Estella..." I blinked, realizing that Bruce had managed to remember my name and had finally spoken it on first-name basis. Looking down, I met his gaze again, his handsome face staring for a few seconds before he spoke. "Do me a favour..." I watched in confusion as Bruce pulled a pen from his tux jacket, scribbling on a sheet of paper and then tearing it off its binding, handing over a cheque. "Go to the bank tomorrow morning and deposit this. This way you won't have to keep stealing to pay for tuition and you'll be able to remember me for something more than ruining your rent for the month."

I store down at the cheque in my hands, almost turning bright red as my face flushed in surprise. In beautiful loopy writing Bruce Wayne had printed my name, his signature below it and then lastly left a very long, very amazing number of zeros after a one. '_One hundred thousand dollars..._' Not knowing how to react to something like this, I could hardly breathe as I just store down at the numbers, reading it over and over again. This piece of paper -this printed and penned cheque- was worth more money than anything and everything I had ever owned in my life- combined!

"I don't understand... why are you giving this to me?" I spoke out of bewilderment, unbelieving any man on this earth could be so kind, looking up towards my saviour as he merely nodded with a suave smile twinging at the ends of his mouth as he stood and pulled his jacket off the chair. Dark and beautiful, he gave a slight smirk as he met my wide-eyed gaze.

"Well, I've got more money than I can think to spend these days, and I really think you deserve more than what you've been given in this life... A new start, collateral to make sure we don't meet in the alleys again under worse circumstances. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a prior engagement to attend to. It was nice meeting you, Estella."

And with that said, still sitting dumbfounded in the chair clutching that cheque for dear life, I watched in an absolute stupor as Bruce Wayne tipped the waiter and left the restaurant that he so rightfully owned. Everything in my mind was spinning, like staring out the window of a racing car, trying to focus on the line of trees at the edge of the pavement. Only one thing burned at the back of my mind as I finally decided to make my way home, walking numbly towards my dingy apartment. Though the entire night was somewhat of a blur, not helped with all the wine I had indulged in, but that last sentence and the huskier voice he seemed to speak in... Why exactly would Bruce Wayne heed warning against meeting me again in the back of an alleyway?

'_Being in alleyways... Geeze, what does that man do with his spare time__?_'


End file.
